


静かに流れる川は深い (still waters run deep)

by fieryrondo



Series: the herald of spring [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2016 Skate Canada International, 2016-2017 Grand Prix Final, 2017 Four Continents Figure Skating Championships, 4CC PTSD, Angst, Gen, M/M, Nature, Team Cricket is love, emergency quad, excessive use of metaphors, figure skating, quad revolution, seriously, there are more metaphors than transitions in Yuzu's free skate, too many goddamn similes and metaphors, yolo axel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryrondo/pseuds/fieryrondo
Summary: During his free skate at Four Continents, Yuzuru Hanyu reflects on the first half of the season and rediscovers his joy for skating.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. Just when I thought I had crawled out of the Four Continents angst, well, yes, rewatching H&L completely ruined my blasé attitude.
> 
> And then of course, NaCl had to go ahead and suggest a "trilogy"...and thus this monster was born.
> 
> Consider this a pre-Worlds gift (because I'm sure as hell not writing anymore of this metaphor-glutted angst until Worlds is waaaay behind us). It's just not good for my health.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“ _Annyeonghaseyo_.”

 

“ _Annyeong...haseyo_.”

 

“ _Yeoreobun_.”

 

“ _Annyeonghaseyo...yeoreobun_.”

 

“Good. After you say hello, say, ‘ _Jeoneun_ -your name- _imnida_.'”

 

“ _Imnida_?”

 

“Yes, is how you end the sentence. More formal, for introduction, like if you’re talking with elders or at event. You wouldn’t use this with friends.”

 

“ _Annyeonghaseyo yeoreobun. Jeoneun_ Yuzuru  _imnida._ Is first name okay?”

 

“Hmm, I think it’s fine. Everyone will know who you are.”

 

“Everyone?”

 

Jun-hwan Cha rolls his eyes.

 

“Trust me,” the Korean skater says. “If they aren’t already crazy for you, they will be when you're there. I think ‘Yuzuru’ sound more friendly. They will like that.”

 

“Thank you for your help.” Yuzuru smooths out the paper edges of the carefully written phrases in his little notepad, which he tucks under Pooh-san's paw. "I practice some more. Join me?"

 

Jun-hwan's about to respond when Javi storms off the ice, slapping on his blade covers with a vicious ferocity quite unlike him. He brushes past Jun-hwan, with that familiar look in his eyes that Yuzuru is astonished to see. Javi was his own harshest critic but it hasn't been since Sochi Yuzuru's seen that particular level of self loathing.

 

It must have been a very bad run-through, Yuzuru thinks.

 

"Let's talk, okay?" Good old Brian immediately heads off to dissipate Javi's thunderstorm before its outbreak. Normally, he'd let the Spanish skater stew a little, to give him some space to work things out on his own, but with Four Continents just days away, Brian can't afford to risk another meltdown.

 

Jun-hwan warms up with their usual set of stroking exercises, following the elder skater's lead. Yuzuru serenely glides with his usual grace but the junior skater senses that the Japanese skater's mind seems to be entirely elsewhere. It was quite unlike Yuzuru to be distracted on the ice, especially so close to competition. Jun-hwan follows the Japanese skater's line of sight to Brian's office, the door invitingly ajar, where Brian and a despondent Javi sat, deep in conversation. Jun-hwan's about to ask Yuzuru a question when he realizes the skater is no longer at his side.

 

Yuzuru turns a full one hundred eighty degrees, reversing direction entirely to skate towards the center of the rink. In morbid fascination, Jun-hwan watches as Yuzuru picks up speed, and with a few quick steps, sets himself up to jump a shockingly high quadruple lutz, only to step out of the landing. Unperturbed by his lack of success, Yuzuru loops around before going for the same jump again, this time, landing it clean. Jun-hwan gapes and wonders when (or rather how) Yuzuru will convince Brian to upgrade his layout as a reply to the challenges received from the younger senior men chasing him this season.

 

Actually, now that young Korean skater is thinking about it, didn't Brian place an anti-adventurous jump practice ban on Yuzuru? Surely, the Japanese skater knew better than to play around with dangerous jumps with Four Continents right on their doorstep?

 

Sure enough, Brian, having spotted Yuzuru, was dashing across the ice with a speed of an Olympian. Pirouetting on the ice, Yuzuru sees Brian's flailing arms and look of consternation, and only laughs and ducks behind Jun-hwan.

 

“Yuzu, don’t think I didn’t catch you practicing that quad lutz in the back, and don't hide behind Jun-Hwan, either. I might be old but I’m not blind.”

 

"Is new warm-up plan. Get crazy out to get nice jumps in program," Yuzuru insists with aplomb, his usual stubbornness that both endeared and frustrated the coaches. His gaze flits somewhere beyond Brian's shoulder. "You finish?"

 

The stress lines across the Canadian coach's forehead darken.

 

"It's up to him now."

 

Yuzuru hums, examining the lining of his black Irene gloves. 

 

"Bounce back. He always does."

 

Jun-hwan is not quite sure he understands.

 

* * *

 

Yuzuru clutches his other glove tightly in his right hand, deaf to all but the fast, furious beats and Takahiro Moriuchi's adrenaline pumping vocals screaming in his ears. As always, the allure of the rink's glittering ice beckons to him like a siren, drawing him towards it with the surety of a magnet that draws iron into its embrace. Vaguely, Yuzuru is aware of his surroundings. Brian, trailing behind him, with Pooh-san tucked under his arm, Shoma, almost up against the wall, bopping his head to music of his own. Yuzuru walks on, stepping over a tangle of electrical wires fastened to the ground by duct tape. Absentmindedly, he shifts a little closer to the boards so the cameraman following him can get a better angle of the rink. Yuzuru slips the remaining glove on, enjoying the cool feel of the midnight blue silk against his palms. A few quick tugs, then he pulls the straps over his fingers to secure the sleeves. First, the left, then the right.

 

Meanwhile, Brian's already set up by the boards, with Pooh-san sitting comfortably at the perfect distance facing the rink. Water bottle on the left, favorite Pooh-san towel on the right, just the way Yuzuru likes it. Over the years, Brian's gotten plenty of practice working with Pooh-san. Yuzuru stretches, the image of the four rotations he needs for his jumps sharp and clear in his mind's eye.

 

The song ends. It's time. Yuzuru takes out his phone from his pocket. He removes his earphones, dropping them on the boards. Brian smiles, almost reproachfully, before he scoops up the phone and earphones and hands them to Kikuchi-san, who stows them away.

 

They don't talk--Brian knows this now--but Brian, in his charmingly self-conscious way, tries to connect with Yuzuru anyway, to radiate a constant aura of soothing positivity and ground Yuzuru the best he can. Yuzuru smiles a little at this--he knows Brian's trying, but the torch's been lit and it takes all he has to hold back the flames.

 

The score for the last skater in the penultimate group flashes on the leaderboard. Yuzuru tucks the necklace underneath the illusion mesh, the stone cool against his skin. He removes his skate guards. Left, then right again. He hands them to Brian, rocks back and forth on the edge of his blades. The familiar tingle of anticipatory fire sears his veins and he looks away, trying to mirror Brian's calm. He acknowledges Shoma, who looks just as jittery as Yuzuru feels. Yuzuru allows himself a pang of envy for Nathan Chen's rock solid composure before he lets it go. Yuzuru is hungry fire, ever dancing, and grounded calm, unsurprisingly, just doesn't come naturally to him. But he needs it, he needs that steady collectiveness now. He can't afford to lose focus, not after the short. (The fire seethes.)

 

Yuzuru closes his eyes and breathes.

 

* * *

 

Yuzuru's down on the ice, his lungs afire as he gulps in air. He can feel Shae-Lynn hovering anxiously in the background, her edges cutting smoothly into the ice with surgical precision. Yuzuru masters himself long enough to fling an arm out and stagger to his feet, all the while trying his best not to ruminate on the less than stellar practices he's had the first week back from Toronto. Waylaid by the flu for two weeks, Yuzuru knows he's far from decent shape, but despite his best efforts, he can't keep the disappointment diffusing into his thoughts like a noxious fume. Yuzuru curses vehemently in his head, running through all of the Japanese swear words he knows, even throwing a few Spanish ones he's picked up from Javi, just for good measure. 

 

"A break, I think." Shae-Lynn says, and offers a hand. Yuzuru's not too proud to accept the help. He likes Shae-Lynn. Gentle as spring and elegant zephyr flow, she's never had trouble connecting with him, even in previous seasons when circumstances kept them from working together as often as they should have. To be honest, Yuzuru finds the Canadian choreographer's ability to read him a little disconcerting at times: the effortless way she was able to take his stumbling words, his clumsy attempts at English, his wild, half-formed choreographic gestures, and transmute them into works of art that Yuzuru dreams of realizing with every fiber of his being. They may have called Yuzuru's Seimei free skate magic on ice, but Yuzuru knows who the real magician is.

 

"The quad-sal combination's been the thorn in your side, hasn't it?" There is no disapproval from Shae-Lynn, only mild exasperation. Yuzuru doesn't mind. As his choreographer, Shae-Lynn understands his aesthetics, even if she doesn't always agree with them.

 

"Quad-sal...important to keep," Yuzuru says. "The timing...the story. It must stay. You understand me?"

 

"I do," Shae-Lynn replies. Yuzuru lets out a breath that he isn't even aware he was holding. 

 

"We'll keep the combination where it is, but let me see you add the new steps I showed you earlier. You're so quick on the ice, I think a complete stop is a bit much, and keeping a running edge will give you more speed for the salchow jump. Why don't you try it again?"

 

Yuzuru eagerly goes through the new steps, building up the momentum, before swinging his free leg back to fly.

 

* * *

 

Yuzuru flies out onto the ice, fingers skimming the surface ( _hello, thank you for letting me skate_ ) before shooting off to loop around the rink. Just six minutes of warm-up time. Six minutes to go through his jumps on the ice, the last chance before his free skate. Yuzuru goes for the quad loop, which comes to him like a new, but increasingly reliable friend. Yuzuru feels his confidence raise a little more, feels a little coolness trickle into his muscles to relax them. Systematically, he works through the other jumps--the triple axel-one loop-triple salchow combination, and then the quad toe, liquid flow running from the edge. Finally, the nightmarish specters of the official practices following the short program--Yuzuru can leave them behind now. Yuzuru trusts this ice; now he needs to trust himself.

 

Yuzuru strips off his jacket, the chill of the ice pooling reassuringly over his skin.

 

* * *

 

In the back of the bus, Yuzuru sneezes. Moments later, a white jacket cascades down onto his head like a downpour from the heavens.

 

"Cold?"

 

"Javi!" Yuzuru pulls the Team Espanya jacket off his head. "Oh no, don't come near me."

 

"Why?"

 

Yuzuru sneezes again, this time into his jacket sleeve. He makes a face before fumbling for his bag. To his dismay, he's run out of masks and has to settle for some tissues from Pooh-san.

 

"I think, a cold." He sniffles some more. "I really mean it. Don't sit so close. I didn't bring mask. My germs will kill you."

 

"I'll take my chances." Javi sits next to Yuzuru anyway, despite the fact that there are plenty of other seats on the bus. Yuzuru sighs and scoots over to make room for the Spanish skater. As Yuzuru pulls his bag out of the way, a disc of laminated plastic with accompanying ribbon falls out from a pocket and rolls across the aisle.

 

"Plastic coaster ahoy!" Canadian pairs skater Eric Radford roars. Yuzuru gets up from his seat to apologize only to sneeze magnificently. A minute later, Javi returns the medal, helpfully passed back along by the other skaters.

 

"Here you go. And congrats on your win tonight."

 

Yuzuru grimaces. He glances up at the curly mop of natural perm towards the front of the bus.

 

"I did not win."

 

"Really?" Javi taps the medal, taking great care not to scratch the plastic. "I think the color here disagrees with you."

 

"You know what I mean." Yuzuru puts the medal away with a huff. "I have frustration. Free skate was not so good."

 

"No one expects you to be perfect."

 

A dry laugh. "Big lie you tell." Another sneeze. Despite the Japanese skater's protests, Javi spreads his jacket out and wraps it snugly around Yuzuru's torso like a blanket.

 

"There, nice and warm." His arm sneaks around Yuzuru's waist.

 

"No, not nice." Yuzuru tries to buck him off, but Javi dodges his efforts with well-practiced ease.

 

"Who's the big liar now?"

 

"I guess we both big liars." Yuzuru gives up his quest to divest himself of his training mate's jacket and slumps into the seat and yawns. "So tired. Don't know why."

 

"Me too." There's an odd note in Javi's voice that makes Yuzuru, who has been careful to avoid facing Javi directly for fear of infecting him, turn his head to look at his training partner. It hits Yuzuru that Javi, under the dimming bus lights, looks strangely old, weary beyond belief. Yuzuru's seen that look in many skaters before, all who ended up leaving the competitive ice shortly after. That expression of wistful, terrible longing, like clipped birds looking up at the sky, unable to fly. Suddenly, Yuzuru is desperate to change the subject.

 

"Tell me about your ice show."

 

As Yuzuru's hoped, Javi's face brightens. Yuzuru pulls Pooh-san close to have the tissues on hand and tilts his head back as Javi's words wash over him like lapping ocean waves at sunset.

 

* * *

 

He lands the quad sal-triple toe combination, right before Shoma takes a spill on the ice. Yuzuru checks in with Brian, who asks him how his last jump felt.

 

"Good, feels good." Yuzuru says, but there's still that lingering unease, which clings like persistent mildew on budding leaves.

 

Brian nods.

 

"You've got the jumps, don't think too much about it. Do it exactly like practice." A measured pause. "How do you feel?"

 

"A little nervous, but more..." Yuzuru fishes for the words. "More focus."

 

"Focused is good. Any more jumps to review?"

 

"I think...quad loop again. Then steps."

 

After the jump, Yuzuru goes through the steps, surveying the ice, marking the jumps, seeing Hope and Legacy unfold before his eyes, the way it is intended to be performed. When he returns to the boards, Brian is already carrying Pooh-san and the rest of his things. Wordlessly, his coach hands him his skate guards, which Yuzuru snaps back on after Han Yan steps off the ice. Yuzuru bows once more to the rink, his hands gently rapping against the boards. He removes the right glove and walks off.

 

Brian falls into step with him, clutching Pooh-san. They talk.

 

* * *

 

"I can't read your mind. You need to tell me what you're thinking. None of this smoke and mirrors business; I've been through it before, I don't want to go through it again."

 

Yuzuru swallows hard, language having abandoned him for the wolves. But that’s not right either. Talking has never been a problem for Yuzuru. He’s done hundreds of interviews, some he’s prepared in advance, and many others on the fly. He’s even muddled his way through the ones in English, and even survived hours of Brian’s more technical, soporific forays into the history of jump techniques the man was so fond of during the early years before Sochi (Nam had fallen asleep during every one of those lectures, as did Javi).

 

But no amount of preparation or rote memorization of useful English syntactical patterns and words could have prepared Yuzuru for this. Language, though a roadblock, is not the insurmountable one that confronts them now. It is the very situation that they are in—a mutually agreed decision by himself and Brian to “talk.” Yuzuru hated confrontations and did everything he could to avoid them—a lovely quality that was easily twisted into a self-crippling fault as his dear mother has reminded him time and again. Even after the fiasco at Skate Canada, with Brian looking more frustrated than he’d ever been (including Worlds—this was saying a lot), Yuzuru still can’t get over the ingrained instinct to apologize and deflect, like diverting violent waters to placid streams, to accommodate and harmonize with Brian and his team, even at the cost of his own drowning. (Because if Yuzuru’s drowning, surely it was a fault on his part, wasn’t it?)

 

Yuzuru doesn’t know how to put what needs to be said into words his coach could understand. The JSF was quick to initiate communications with Brian and make their feelings regarding the coaching arrangement very clear but Yuzuru had had to, in the end, put his foot down and respectfully ask them to back off. What Yuzuru understands is that while the arrangement he’s had with Brian and his team is far from perfect, he feels that it is an arrangement that best suits him. He wants to make things work, and so does Brian, but so far in their tentative dance of sporadic conversation, restrained lines of communication, and missed chances for clarification, they’ve yet to sync, like green pairs skaters who’ve yet to fully establish the bonds of trust. Even now, from how they’re seated in the club boardroom, Yuzuru’s team on one side, Brian and his team on the other, they’ve come to meet not as one group but two different teams expecting a fight.

 

“Tell us what’s on your mind, Yuzuru,” Tracy encourages him, her face calm and open.

 

Yuzuru opens his mouth, a gaping fish that has forgotten how to breathe.

 

“I…”

 

Brian leans forward.

 

“I’m…not sorry.” And Yuzuru claps his hands to his mouth, absolutely horrified by the words he can’t take back. But Yuzuru is not a man who goes back on his word. Before he knows it, he’s starting to babble about prioritizing the jumps and working on the artistic elements later and why he needs to go hard and fast after losing so many months of training time and during that time, the world doesn’t stand still but moves along, ushering bright new young talent hungry for gold medals and titles. Brian looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Yuzuru licks his chapped lips and tries again.

 

“No, I mean, I’m sorry that I am not…sorry. Sorry, this is really bad start.”

 

“Since when are starts ever good?” Brian says, attempting to inject a little humor to lighten the heaviness of the room. Yuzuru laughs, a little hysterically but manages to pull himself together to hear Brian’s next question. “Ok, tell me about what you want for this season. Why the quad loop? Why new jumps now? The risk is too high to warrant the reward. Your quad sal is beautiful—why not stick with the layout you had before?”

 

Yuzuru nods, grabbing hold at the lifeline Brian has just thrown. Concrete questions are good. Concrete questions are answerable.

 

“Because high risk is why I must do it now.” Yuzuru runs a hand self-consciously through his hair behind his ears. What happened at Boston was certainly regrettable, and a small but vocal part of him whispers tauntingly that his desire for a more difficult, more ambitious program this season was his way of trying to forget about the failed Seimei free skate, of his desperation to eclipse that atrocity with something even greater, more magnificent, and more brilliant beyond measure. Most of all, Yuzuru wants to lose that fear, the burden of perfection he forced himself to bear alone. Yuzuru needs room to breathe, freedom to fall (and fall and fall), to _learn_ and _fail_ while he could still afford to do so, and in learning to fail, to find that push to grow.

 

"I have to do it now,” Yuzuru says, considering the words carefully. “I have to make mistake now, so next year I won't be going through this." He meets Brian’s eyes dead straight on, and lays bare his soul. “I am sorry about Skate Canada, but better to fall now than in Pyeongchang.”

 

Bated silence. The second hand of the wall clock makes its revolution around the clock face as Brian weighs his answer. Then, slowly Brian nods.

 

“You know, you’re absolutely right.”

 

Yuzuru's heart leaps; he's found the right words.

 

* * *

 

The quad loop flies out, like a passing whirlwind, soft and light. Arms raised to flow, fingers running through the rivulets of a warm breeze. This is springtime, the beginning of all things, the burst of life Yuzuru feels when he steps on the ice for the first time to join his elder sister on the ice. Everything about the ice draws Yuzuru in, like a secret playground built just for him, the plain of ice stretching out, newly resurfaced, smooth and ready for him to make his mark. It is a time of his life when skating is exciting and new, when Yuzuru wants to learn everything, from the spins, to Arakawa-senshu's layback Ina Bauer to Plushenko's Biellmann spin because those kinds of moves were cool and not many guys were doing them, so why not? And the jumps! The sensation of flying across the ice--okay, more falls than anything but the jumps were totally worth the bruises. 

 

The rain of piano notes are joined by the cascade of cello strings as Yuzuru exits out of his flying change-foot combination spin and into his step sequence, a symphony of choctaws, brackets, rockers, and counters like wildflowers in full bloom. This is summer, this is Toronto, when Yuzuru flew over ten thousand kilometers seeking quads only to have a harvest of skating skills and stroking practice to cultivate. This isn't what Yuzuru has signed up--here a hand raised in a moment of self-doubt. Yuzuru looks through his fingers, gazes into the mirror--a reflection of time twining both the past and present. He doesn't like the doubt, the uncertainty he sees--since when has Yuzuru Hanyu been afraid to try something new? He shatters the mirror and finds that the secret to the quad sal is not a mystical artifact carefully guarded by the hands of a temple guardian, but a treasure that he has always had but is only beginning to be able to see, with every step that he takes, the technique winking in and out like bejeweled ripening fruit, growing but not quite mature enough to be picked.

 

_("Yuzu's always been so ambitious. He sees the big picture, he's looking at the road to the Olympics. I see his plan more clearly now.")_

 

The triple flip, the excitement of the quad jumps build. The crescendo of strings and piano at a fevered fortissimo, all eyes are on him. This is the peak, this is Sochi, every skate of his life has been for this very moment. Yuzuru's never been in better shape, he's running hot, his skates striking down world records like lightning. He sees the Olympic gold glittering in his mind's eye, just within his grasp--

 

Yuzuru pops the quad-sal combo into a doubled sal-one loop combo. A ravaged harvest, what can be salvaged from the ruins? He falls at Sochi, falls at Cup of China, falls at NHK, falls at Worlds. Yuzuru's never hated skating before, but it's hard not to, as the frustration just builds and bubbles inside of him, a bitter soup made from the remains of a failed reaping. 

 

_("Yuzu...did you know? That the hardest thing besides forgiving someone else is forgiving yourself? It's okay to forgive yourself. It's okay to make mistakes. Because when we make mistakes, that's when we grow. Just like our stroking sessions. You work on everything bit by bit, and sometimes even when it's perfect, we don't just get it quite right. But that's okay. That's how we know, we can do it better.  Even something as simple as the basics. You can always do it better.")_

  

Quad toe, triple axel-triple toe. The plenty of summer has passed, but autumn's bounty is more than Yuzuru's initially feared. Just as the farmer anticipates the poor harvests along with the good ones, Yuzuru plays the long game and recovers lost points by working swiftly, resourcefully, ever aware that time is against him. Winter is coming, and with it, the chill of time creeps into Yuzuru's limbs. It will be a hard winter, fraught with illness, injury and the knowledge that with winter's thaw, new youngsters with new quads, more quads will burst forth from the undergrowth to challenge last season's contenders.

 

_("I think it'll be perfect. Mainstream appeal, but yet at the same time totally unexpected. A chance for you to really work the crowd, raise that energy, be a rockstar on the ice. What do you say, Yuzuru? 'Let's Go Crazy?'")_

 

Yuzuru changes out the planned triple axel-loop-triple salchow combination for a quad toe-double toe. To shake things up, to bloom even in winter's slumber, life breathes, life grows. And Yuzuru thrives in adversity, to move where others have stalled, to climb to heights no one else has dared to climb. Yuzuru stakes out his territory, his Ina Bauer and hydroblade carving out his dominion on the ice. 

 

_("Which warhorse is it this time? You want to do the Swan? Can I ask why?"_

_"I want to do it because I want to make it my own. To take something people know, they already have idea, a picture of what it look like, and surprise them with something different. Something better. Something they always remember."_

_A laugh. "So, basically, you want a 'legacy'? I think I understand. I'll do it. I'll make your Swan, a swan to blow all other Swans out of the water.")_

 

Yuzuru jumps his triple axel--for what is a Yuzuru Hanyu free skate program without two triple axels? The chorus of violin strings meld to usher in winter's thaw--the final combination spin. He opens his arms to herald the new spring.

 

* * *

 

On the ice for the first time in two months, Yuzuru lands a single loop, his first jump all summer. Before he knows it, he's down on his knees, hugging the ice as he cries.

 

 _I can skate again._  


End file.
